Abandoned Complete Darkness

Chapter Five:Dark Past

"Alright, folks," Sheriff Thompson begins, his voice firm and no-nonsense. "We have a situation on our hands with Michael's death, and we need to handle it with care. First and foremost, we need to prepare to inform his family and sister Tiffany."

Harris, the most experienced deputy, nods grimly. "That'll be tough news to break, especially to Tiffany. She's gonna be devastated."

Deputy Lee, a lanky man with a serious demeanor, chimes in. "I can't get that guy out of my head. The way he moved, it was... unnatural. And that mask he was wearing, I've never seen anything like it before."

Williams, the youngest deputy on the team, shudders at the memory. "It was like he was possessed or something. And the way he was humming that old song, 'Sleepwalk,' it was just creepy."

Sheriff Thompson nods, his expression grave. "We need to act fast. We're dealing with a dangerous individual here. I want you all to be on high alert. Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of him in the town."

John walks into the room, a serious expression on his face. "Frank, can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

The room falls silent as the other deputies exchange curious glances. Sheriff Thompson tilts his head, studying John for a moment before nodding. "Sure, John. Come with me."

Thompson turns to his deputies. "You folks go on ahead. I need to have a word with John in private. Thank you."

The deputies nod and file out of the room, leaving John and Sheriff Thompson alone. Once the room is empty, Thompson turns his attention back to John.

"What's on your mind, John?" Thompson asks, his voice low and serious.

John takes a deep breath, his eyes heavy with troubled memories. "Frank, I need to talk to you about something. Something that's been weighing on me for a long time, something I can't remember."

Thompson regards John with an expression of concern, sensing the importance in his words. "What is it, John? What can't you remember?"

John's face contorts with frustration. "It's my retirement from the force. I remember feeling like I had to get out, but I can't remember why. And there's something else... these recent events, they're bringing back nightmares, but every time I try to remember them, it slips away."

Thompson's expression softens, understanding the depth of John's struggle. "You've been through a lot, John. It's common for the mind to block out traumatic memories as a defense mechanism."

John nods, a hint of desperation in his voice. "There's more. I met this... I don't know, a woman. She seemed crazy, but she said something strange. She told me I had to remember. She said it was important."

Thompson raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by this revelation. "A crazy lady told you that you had to remember something important? That's quite a statement."

John looks down at his hands, struggling to find the words. "I know it sounds crazy, but there's something about her... something that made me believe her. And the nightmares, they're getting worse, like I'm getting closer to something I don't want to remember."

Thompson rubs a hand over his chin, his expression darkened by memory. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

      20 years ago

A huge, quiet man sits on the porch of a small, run-down house. He's sitting there, staring at a sheep mask clutched in his hands. The song "Sleepwalk" plays faintly from a nearby radio.

The porch door opens with a screech, revealing a portly, drunken man who steps out. It's clear he's been drinking, his eyes bloodshot and demeanor aggressive.